


It Could Be Enough

by untouchableface



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Grey Warden Joining, Pillow Talk, Plans For The Future, Reunions, Sharing a Bed, Soulmates, Spoilers, Spoilers for Trespasser, spoilers for Blackwall's storyline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28996824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untouchableface/pseuds/untouchableface
Summary: SPOILERS for Trespasser, and for Blackwall's storyline. You have been warned. Stop reading here if you do not want to be spoiled for either.Otherwise, this is full of Problem Bear and dear Evelyn, and Feelings.
Relationships: Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall/Trevelyan (Dragon Age)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Never a breath you can't afford to waste

**Author's Note:**

> Just... try not to think of the single griffon feather as you read this. 
> 
> The first chapter is a small tease of what's to come.

“And there she is. I missed you.”

With more silver in his hair than ever, Thom smiled warmly at Evelyn from across the courtyard.

A sudden ache rose up to her throat as she took in the new lines around his eyes; as if the full weight of being away from him for months was finally hitting her all at once. The lost time, the physical distance that had kept them apart. How much lighter and heavier she felt - one right after the other, in an endless loop - when she could see him, touch him, be near him, hold him.

“Hello Warden. Thom.” She smiled widely in return, hoping her expression concealed the tumultuous thoughts underneath.

His name on her lips was a prayer, a song, a greeting, a promise.

And, for the Inquisitor, his name in her mouth also became a portent of what she feared most… the same words she would inevitably utter as a perhaps-final goodbye, on the too-soon day when he would have to leave her again.

If he had been aware of her watching him practice – or of any of the grim thoughts swirling in her mind – he didn’t comment as he set down his throwing knives. Instead, he simply opened his arms, and she closed the distance between them.

Being together felt entirely like coming home.


	2. You gotta kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of Trespasser, Evelyn and Thom lay a few truths bare.

“I wish I could take it back.”

“Take what back, love?” Thom’s voice rumbled softly as she buried her head into the crook of his shoulder, their limbs tangling together as they sprawled on her oversized bed. The forces behind the Exalted Council really had spared no expense when setting up her quarters; a small kindness, really, in the face of everything she had sacrificed for the sake of saving the world.

Sharing a bed – sharing his warmth, if she were being honest – was high on the list of what Evelyn Trevelyan had been missing most. With Thom at her side, the world and all its challenges seemed infinitely more manageable, whether it was keeping snotty nobles in line, or taking down an undead Magister-turned-ancient god.

Or, most recently, learning how to cope with the pain and frustration of a newly-severed limb. It was another small kindness that Thom had chosen to stay with her, rather than return to duty.

“Sending you to the Wardens.” She buried her face further into his downy salt and pepper chest, unwilling to meet his eye as she found herself confessing to her single, deepest regret. Somehow, her pain made her equally blunt and stupid… and if she were being entirely honest, even with all the potions she’d been fed, the bandaged stub still ached excruciatingly.

“But I’m here. And I survived the Joining…”

He sounded hesitant; she wished she could swallow her vulnerability and simply be grateful for these scant moments together. But nothing in her life had been truly simple in far too long.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.” That much, at least, was true. “And I _know_ you are carrying on _his_ legacy, what he wanted for you.” The words – or perhaps, what she was still leaving unsaid – prickled at the backs of her eyes. She couldn’t quite keep the bitterness from her voice, and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.

“Gordon, you mean?” Thom swallowed thickly, taking in the full weight of her words. _Damn him and damn his beautiful, simple honesty._

“Yes.” More than anything, she hated the ease with which he had always seen through her. It was not that she was jealous of the Warden’s legacy and the sway it held over the man she loved; in bitter retrospect, she only wished that she had not chosen to curse him with that same fate.

“I’m not doing this for him, you know. Well, I suppose I am, but not _just_ him. Not by a long shot.”

“I _know_.” Her voice cracked; she was still unable to look him in the eye. Hot tears pooled in the curve of his shoulder as she felt something deep within her break. “Maker damn it all. Nevermind. Just fuck me, Thom. Please.”

“Oh Evie.” Instead of catering to her baser needs – her need for distraction, her need to escape the painful subject at hand – he cupped her face in his hand, lifting her chin so that she was forced to look at him. She hated being so transparent, so fucking _needy_.

A moment of eye contact was all it took to shatter her entirely, and she crumpled into him as her body shook with sobs. “I was – so mad at you,” she hiccupped between shaky breaths. “You, in those shackles, glaring up at me with everyone watching…” She knew his deflection wasn’t about actually rejecting her advances, and somehow that made his current gentleness even more unbearable.

“I wouldn’tve gone to Weisshaupt if I had known you’d changed your mind about sending me to them.” It was too late. Too late to take her confession back, too late to save her left hand, and far too late to undo what had been done. “Sweetheart, I’ll be here for as long as you want me to stay. All you have to do is ask.”

At his words, Evelyn sobbed harder, crushed by the combined weight of her newest helplessness, and all her useless anger. How much she hated it all… Hated being forced to lose her arm. Hated that he still expected her to ask, to somehow make the first move. She hated how inexplicably tied to him she felt (and had felt ever since they’d first met). She hated how much she had lost and given and been expected to give. Hated that she ached without him, and hated that things felt this perfect when they were together, even when the world was falling apart. Most of all, she hated knowing that one day she would be without him again, one way or another, and there was nothing she could do to stop that from happening. “In letting you join them, I sentenced you to death,” she finally choked out.

“Hardly, love.” Thom pressed soft kisses to the top of her head, his broad hands rubbing circles on her back. It was obvious he didn’t understand quite _why_ she was upset – only that she was, and he wanted to do whatever he could to fix it. “I’ve found brotherhood with the Wardens. I’ve done _good_ , got a life purpose again. And it’s all thanks to you. You know that, right?”

“We could’ve had a life together, a little cottage somewhere, just the two of us… We could have had a _family_ , Thom.” She had forgotten how much she hated her own selfishness, but it was definitely on the list too. Well, it was all on the table now. She knew she was selfish and awful to ask him to abandon his duty, but Maker, she wanted him all to herself. She didn’t want to have to keep guessing how many days or weeks or months would stretch in between their scant moments together.

His arms wound tightly around her, pinning her to his chest. Even if she wanted to move now, she wouldn’t be going anywhere until his grip relaxed. “Everything else aside, you know I’m nearly two decades older than you are.” His voice sounded strained, and she felt him take a deep, shuddering breath. “Plus, you said you never wanted kids.” He chuckled, but it sounded far too hollow.

“Then why can’t I stop thinking about those griffons you used to make?” There was more there, too, but she couldn’t quite find the words to describe how his face and shoulders had relaxed when he saw joy and hope in those children’s faces, as he’d gifted them those simple toys. How gentle and nurturing he had been in those moments. How she had caught glimpses of a possible future for the two of them; one that she hadn’t realized how badly she wanted until the option was taken off the table, and she no longer had the choice to make.

“I still whittle when I get a chance, my lady.” The words in his mouth sounded more like an apology than a statement of fact.

“Thom… You would’ve made such a good father. I wish I could have given you that at least. Made a home with you. And don’t you dare say you wouldn’t deserve it.” With her good arm, she squeezed back, anchoring him to her; unwilling to let him go.

“Oh, love.” Evelyn heard him sniffle, his words barely louder than an exhale. A moment later, she felt something wet land on her forehead. “You don’t have to give me children to make me happy. I’m just glad to have been at your side again.”

“Don’t,” she murmured after a long moment, his words crashing like rocks in her stomach. Fresh tears welled in her own eyes. “Don’t you _dare_ speak in past tense like that. You _are_ here with me. Now. And I will always want you here.”

“Then I will stay, love. Right here. Always.”

“Good.”

For a long moment the two lay together, simply existing in a shared silence; finally, their tears slowed and their breathing became less ragged. Thom released his muscle-achingly tight hold on her, and Evelyn used the opportunity to adjust their positioning so that he was now on his back and she lay with her good arm draped over his chest.

“We could move somewhere new together, maybe back to the Marches. How about a house along the Amaranthine Coast?” Even if it was a hopeless fantasy, she still wanted to believe it _could_ come true, that they could have some sort of life together, just the two of them.

“Don’t you want to move back to Ostwick? Show me off to all your friends?” He smirked wickedly, and in response to his teasing she bit softly at his nipple – just sharply enough to earn an “Ow!” in reply.

“You deserved that,” she grinned in response. “If we move back to Ostwick, _you_ get to entertain my mother for tea every weekend as I come down with a mysterious illness, each and every _tragic_ time.”

“My lady, you drive a hard bargain. Wycome it is, then.” Thom rumbled softly, deep in his chest; his gruff laughter flooding her body with a sudden warmth.

“Wycome it is. You’ll open a woodworking shop, and I’ll keep house for us. In the evenings, we’ll get into our unending supply of Antivan wine, and fall asleep by the fire.”

“Antivan wine, hmm? I think you over-estimate my woodworking skills, my lady.”

Glancing up at his face, Evelyn caught the twinkle in his eye that gave away the intent behind his innocent words. “Dirty old man.” She leaned in to steal a kiss. “I know exactly how good you are with your wood.”

“As long as I’m your dirty old man, you can do whatever you want with my wood.” He bit at her lip, and she deepened the kiss, her tongue claiming his.

“You are. And I love you for it, and for everything else, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.” She tangled her good hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, letting him know exactly how much she would always want him.

For tonight, and for as long as he stayed at her side, the warmth of his breath – and the gentle weight of his arms mooring her in place – could be enough to make a happy life, no matter where in the world they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Just try not to think of that single griffon feather and the badge. I've been stewing on the goddamn tragedy that is the choice to send him to the Wardens, and how much it SUCKS.
> 
> Chapter titles are song lyrics from [Lovers in a Dangerous Time](https://youtu.be/k_oOc3Zj0KU), which is an equally heartbreaking song. (I just have a weakness for Steven Page's voice, okay?)


End file.
